


Questioning Curiosity

by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Curiosity, F/M, Film Noir, Jazzy Feels, Light Mentions of Branding, Potential Out of Characterness, Romance, Slow Burn, light banter, lounge singer draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-06 21:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20513942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/pseuds/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: Hermione had to investigate things for herself, and it only left her with more questions.





	Questioning Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Written for TheMourningMadam's Fairytale Fest! Inspired by the Japanese folktale 'The Beautiful Dancer of Yedo'

It was raining when Hermione first entered the Snake Lounge that night. That particular detail she remembered was because of the drizzle she shook away from the hem of her dress. 

She was alone as her best friend had other affairs to attend to that evening; Hermione’s curiosity didn’t deter her from coming to see things for herself. 

There was a new entertainment in Little Hangleton, catching every woman’s—and even man’s—attention. Hermione initially heard it was a woman but found that it was actually a man that was causing a stir. 

Some said he was beautiful, others remarked that he was a sight for sore eyes. Some said his voice was angelic, others commented that he was rough around the edges. Some were in awe at his talent, others thought he needed a bit of work. Hermione was a woman who trusted hard facts, and the fact was that she would have to see this new entertainment herself. 

The brunette had dressed appropriately for the event; she wore a simple black dress with her hair in an elegant updo—a part of her attire that Ginny insisted was a necessity in nightly affairs. Thankfully neither that or her makeup was ruined by the sudden drizzle, and she found an open table in the back of the lounge to sit as she waited for her ‘subject’ to perform. 

Hermione perched her elbows on the table and wove her fingers together, setting her chin on top of them. She observed the Snake Lounge’s decor for the evening, and she had to admit that it really set the mood. 

The lights were dim in the entire space, the brightest lights being the candles set on every table. The walls were painted an emerald green color with the edges lined in gold, so the dimness gave it a sensual, majestic feel. In the front was a semi-circle stage with black velvet curtains obscuring anything behind it; though, there was a pleasant sound coming from a piano somewhere. Hermione assumed that someone behind the curtain was the source. 

Her assumptions were correct when applause drew her towards the velvet curtains opening from the middle to reveal a man sitting behind a sleek, black piano. Decorating the top of the piano was the letter ‘D’ shimmering in a silvery light. While the detail was something Hermione deemed vain, she couldn’t help but be drawn into him. 

His pale blonde hair was brushed back, but the parted bang was disheveled-looking, and his facial features were defined in the distance. Hermione couldn’t determine the color of his eyes as they were trained on the keys he elegantly played. 

She noted the black pants and black jacket, but it took a moment for her to realize that he was not _ wearing _any kind of shirt underneath his jacket. Her face flushed at the bold action; it was crude but certainly impactful for the performance. 

The tempo in the piano keys changed to something softer, and behind him, jazz music began to play. Something in the air changed around Hermione, and her initial thought was a draft moving throughout the lounge. Surely it wasn’t because the blonde man was going to _ sing _. 

The audience hadn’t received a proper introduction, but it was uncertain to Hermione whether that was part of his persona or not. It didn’t matter because a mic appeared in front of him out of nowhere, and he licked his lips before parting them to sing. 

“_ It feels too good to be true… _” 

His voice was melodic but there was some depth...a roughness that vibrated in his throat at the low notes. Hermione hadn’t realized that her hands had drifted apart as she listened to the man. 

“_ A love so anew…from the beauty that is you… _” 

He looked out toward the audience, and Hermione’s breath hitched when their eyes connected. Even so far in the back, she felt that he’d seized her body with a stare so intense. _ ‘I’m nearly speechless, even in my mind,’ _ she thought to herself as he continued to sing and play the piano behind the jazzy instrumental. 

Hermione’s mind boggled once he finished because it took for her to break their eye contact. 

* * *

By the time Hermione had prepared to leave the lounge, the flame from her table candle was dying down. She’d conducted enough ‘research’ to base her own opinion—or fact—on the new entertainer in Little Hangleton.

She was about to push open the doors when a hand gripped her elbow. The brunette turned around sharply, her lips parted open to deliver a sharp demand. When she met the intense state of grey eyes, the words died on her throat.

_ ‘They’re even more captivating up close…’ _

“Forgive me,” he said, his voice no longer melodic but sharp. “I recognize every face that’s entered the lounge since my arrival, yet I’m seeing yours now.” The blonde tilted his head. “Why is that?”

Hermione did her best to keep her gaze on his face rather than his exposed torso underneath his jacket.

“I’ve only just decided to see your performance,” she answered matter-of-factly. “I grew tired of listening to hearsay.”

He chuckled lightly, his posture exuding nothing but confidence. Hermione didn’t doubt that he had an ego; all the women fawning over him and the men raging in envy would certainly do the trick.

“I’m pleased you decided to see me,” he said. “Your face is one I definitely won’t forget.”

Hermione folded her arms. It was the best thing to do in order to suppress her blush. “Oh? I should be flattered then.”

He nodded. “I agree, and so you won’t forget me either…” he held out his hand, “I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Acclaimed pianist and jazz singer across the West.”

Hermione pursed her lips, but she took his hand anyway. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Malfoy,” she said. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

Draco held her hand longer than necessary, but Hermione appreciated that he didn’t take the cliche approach and kiss her hand.

Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to whisk her away for her to ask him more questions.

* * *

Hermione never knew there were rooms situated behind the lounge itself. She’d always assumed that it was for equipment for entertainment to use at their leisure. She’d shudder from now on because she’d question the terms night entertaining surrounding the Snake Lounge.

It was like she was walking through a small village. The hallway connecting the rooms was wide and spacious enough for a traveling group, and the rooms were all separated for the right amount of privacy between them. 

The room Draco had taken Hermione was not what she expected. She expected awards or monuments that praised the man for his excellent talent. She expected more glitter and dazzle like the piano he played on. 

What Hermoine saw was steel blue painted walls with no decor hung upon them. A charcoal vanity dresser rested in the corner close to a single twin bed covered in black cotton sheets. In the diagonal corner was another black piano, but it was not as extravagant as the one on stage. After she spun around for her inspection, Hermione stopped on the tall male figure who brought her there. 

“These are your quarters?” Hermione asked, unable to help herself. “I suppose you bring curious women up here often.” 

“Actually, just the one.” Draco chuckled as he placed his hands in his pants pockets and shifted his weight to his right hip. “Were you expecting me to take you somewhere more glamorous?” 

Hermione shook her head quickly. “No, I–Well–” The brunette blushed and cleared her throat. “It’s just–” 

“Relax, Miss Granger,” Draco said. “There’s no way to compliment without making an insult of the matter.” The blonde shrugged. “It’s to be expected.” 

His answer threw her off because it wasn’t what she expected. In fact, with the ego and demeanor, she knew he had, that shouldn’t have been his response. Right? 

He started to remove his hands from her arms and that’s when Hermoine had caught it on his wrist. She gasped sharply at the mark she knew was a brand, and without thinking, she’d taken his wrist in her hand for further examination. 

Rumors and practices of branding weren’t foreign around those parts, but Hermione never saw anyone bear one in Little Hangleton. To bear the brand meant to be free from a captive space, to be released from someone’s ownership and contract. Is that where he learned to play the piano? Why would a man like Draco sign a contract to be owned? 

Her thumb brushed across the branded scar on his wrist, a silhouette of falling flower petals. Her eyes glanced up at Draco’s stoic face; all the questions that formed in her mind were swallowed quickly. 

“It’s a constant reminder that one will do whatever it takes for those you truly love,” he told her. 

It only caused more questions to form in her mind. Once again, they wouldn’t be spoken. He’d stepped closer to her person, leaning down with his head tilted as if he would kiss her. 

Normally, Hermione would strike the prat’s face without hesitation. Yet she stood there frozen as his lips brushed feathery against hers. 

“I believe the show and tell is over,” Draco said in a low tone. There wasn’t any hostility, but Hermione had given enough stern statements to know he meant business. She swallowed hard when he straightened up with a light, sly smile.

* * *

The moon was sitting high in the night sky, and the cool air was welcomed on Hermione’s skin. Those particular details were remembered because the white glow guided Hermione on her way home, and the air settled down the warmth rushing through her.

It wasn’t certain if it’d be enough next time she encountered Draco Malfoy, but that wasn’t going to stop Hermione from getting some answers.


End file.
